


Balance

by dragonwriter24cmf



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Friendship, Gen, Gwendal POV, Gwendal!Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 02 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:51:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21890758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonwriter24cmf/pseuds/dragonwriter24cmf
Summary: With one eye blind and his whole world turned upside down, Gwendal is having trouble finding his balance. Lucky for him, family is there to help him through.
Kudos: 6





	Balance

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Character belong to the creator of the anime, much though I might wish otherwise.

**Balance**

Gwendal cursed under his breath, then staggered into a small alcove and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes.

His head was agony. He'd thought the headaches caused by the awakening of the Key in his eye had been painful, but they were nothing compared to this. The vicious pounding in his skull was enough to make him physically ill. He'd already taken some of the medicine Giesela had made for him, for bad headaches, but it did nothing to relieve the pain that tortured him.

He swallowed hard, then cracked his eyes open. Then he shut them. The absence of vision on his left side made everything look distorted, too far away and too close, somehow all at the same time. He knew if he moved, the loss of depth perception and visual range would unbalance him, adding dizziness to the nausea and agony he suffered. He could barely stand. It had been sheer willpower and his magic that had gotten him back to the Castle. And only long familiarity with the corridors that had gotten him this far. His determination not to burden the king or his brothers with his weakness was the only thing keeping him moving, but he didn't know how long he could manage, or what he could do. Despite his strength and his pride, he knew he was next to useless at the moment. Which was why he hadn't followed the king and Conrad when they'd gone to start planning.

Gwendal cursed again, slamming the palm of his hand into the stone in front of him. His mind was in as much turmoil as his body. He swallowed hard, gritting his teeth against the images that flashed through his mind. The explosion of energy from the boxes. The shadowy figure that had pinned him and Conrad. Conrad's screams, and his own, as part of their essence was forcibly ripped away. He was unused to revealing weakness or pain, even after all the months serving Yuri, learning that it was all right. But in that moment, he'd been as helpless to resist the screams that had ripped from his throat as he had been to resist the force that had caused them. And he wished it had been the worst of the whole damn mess.

More images flashed through his head. Images of Wolfram, standing there, staring blankly as the shadow figure reached into his chest. His brother's lifeless body toppling to the floor. The shadowy outline resolving itself into the last form he would have ever expected, the form of the man he had spent his whole life serving. Watching as the spirit of the First King advanced on the king he had come to trust and love, unable to help. He'd tried, and been knocked aside.

He hammered his hand into the stone again, gritting his teeth, uncaring of the dull pain in his hand, or the way the pain in his head spiked. Conrad was wounded. Wolfram was all but dead. The Great One, entity that he'd sworn loyalty and service to, was a monster. No matter what he did, he would break at least one oath of loyalty, to someone. The fate of the kingdom, and perhaps the world as a whole, was in the hands of a fifteen year old boy. He trusted Yuri, but still...it was so difficult, to remember Yuri's strength in a disaster of this magnitude. Yuri was a special young man but...he was only fifteen, pitted against the spirit of a man who had saved an entire world, with millennia of experience and incalculable power to draw on. 

Gwendal shuddered. His whole world had been turned upside down and inside out. He didn't know what to do. A bitter smile creased one corner of his mouth, more a grimace than anything. Even if he _had_ known what to do, he could do nothing. He could barely walk in a straight line.

A soft exhalation, almost a groan, escaped his throat. He leaned into the wall, bracing himself on his arm to keep the pressure off his head. He leaned his face into the cool stone of the castle walls, letting it ease a fraction of his torment. Stone was his element, rock and earth. It was the only thing still stable in his world, save perhaps the knowledge that he loved his family. He'd have gladly given both eyes, and more, to have not seen Conrad's arm dangling so brokenly, or Wolfram's lifeless body being carried away by Anissina and Giesela. To not have heard his mother's broken sobs as she wept over her youngest son. He inched forward, almost embracing the stone in a way he hadn't done since his father's death, over a century ago. Letting the stone of the castle become his anchor, in a world that had become so terribly unbalanced and off-center.

The solidity of the stone was comforting, soothing. He took a slow, deep breath, then another, willing his thoughts to settle, along with his dizziness and nausea. He let himself slip into a light trance, anchored by the stone as he sought to calm his thoughts and stabilize both mind and body. How long he remained there, he wasn't sure. But he was aware of the footsteps approaching his location. Then they stopped, and a low voice spoke. “Excellency.”

Gwendal turned away from the wall, pushing himself upright as he did so. It took effort to fight the wave of dizziness, but he managed not to sway or stagger. “Gegenhuber.”

His cousin nodded and stepped forward, joining him. Gwendal studied the man a moment, noting the tension in the slender frame. “What brings you to the Castle?” He knew better than to believe the other man's timely appearance was coincidence, and he hadn't summoned him.

“El.” The lines of concern deepened in the thin face, the one eye dark with concern. “He's been restless, these past few days, but he became upset this morning, and hasn't stopped crying since. Nicola and I have been unable to do anything. Given...past circumstances, we thought to bring him here.”

“I see.” Gwendal closed his eyes. He knew what Hube meant. His child's sensitivity to things happening in the kingdom was second to none. “I would have thought you'd remain with them.”

“Nicola has him. His Majesty and Lord Weller are escorting them to Lady Celi and Greta, with His Majesty's brother. Hopefully, they'll be able to do something for him.” Hube's face was impassive, as usual, but his words were sharp with concern and fear for his child. All the resonances of a helpless father.

Gwendal sighed again, then leaned back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. “You've spoken with His Majesty and Conrart?” He saw the other man's nod. “Then you know what has happened.”

“I do. I have already offered His Majesty my services and my sword.”

Gwendal nodded. “Very well.” He swallowed, trying not to show how much that simple nod affected him. For a moment, he feared he was going to tip over, or throw up. He didn't like the idea of asking Hube to leave his wife and child to fight, but he had to admit the other man would be far more useful at the moment than he was.

There was silence between them for a moment. Then Hube spoke, his words coming slowly, cautiously. “Your Excellency...if it's not too forward of me...I heard from Lord Weller that you had sustained some injury.”

Gwendal sighed. “I did.” He tilted his head back just the slightest bit, so that the hair partially obscuring his face fell back, revealing his damaged, sightless eye.

“I see.” He saw concern in his cousin's face, and turned away, once more hiding the injury. Pain spiked through his skull, and he winced.

Hube watched him a moment, then reached into his tunic and removed a small bottle from one of the inner pockets. “Excellency...” He paused, looking uncomfortable, then held out the bottle. “I believe this may be of some use to you. Lady Giesela makes it for me, for headaches.”

Gwendal blinked, but made no effort to deny the unspoken question. Even now, his head was pounding. He'd have rather been subjected to one of Anissina's more violent explosions, than what he currently felt. Still, he felt vaguely embarrassed, that Gegenhuber was witness to his pain, that he'd been unable to hide it.

He looked up, into his cousin's face, and found himself staring at the eye-patch that covered the left side of his face. He was so used to seeing it, he'd almost forgotten why his cousin wore it. To hide the scars where an encounter with the Boxes had burned his left eye out of his head. He swallowed, suddenly feeling sick for an entirely new reason. He saw the slight embarrassment on his cousin's face, and knew the man had guessed his train of thought. Then he reached across the small space, and took the bottle. “How much?”

“I usually take only two swallows. It's a rather...potent remedy.”

Gwendal nodded, removed the cap, then brought the container to his lips and tilted it up. The medicine within tasted absolutely vile, but then, he'd hardly expected anything else. He swallowed twice, then capped the bottle once more and returned it.

There was silence between them again. Then Hube spoke. “Excellency....I offer you my services.”

Gwendal stared at him. “What do you mean?”

Hube shifted his weight uncomfortably, then met his gaze. “I've some experience, in dealing with wounds such as the one you sustained. There are...methods of compensation, and of dealing with the side effects, that I may be able to assist you with, if you wish.”

Gwendal grimaced, wincing again at the thought that it had been so apparent he was having trouble. Then he looked up, once more seeing the leather patch, covering the scarred face. Of course. Gegenhuber would notice. Not only was he extremely observant, in keeping with his duties as a spy and researcher, but he knew more than anyone what to look for. He looked away. “It's that obvious?”

“No. You seem to be doing fairly well, Excellency. But I recall my own experiences, just after I...sustained my injury. It was exceedingly difficult to focus, or maintain my balance for some time. Indeed, I never told Greta how much I depended on her help, during that escape.” Hube's tone was low, almost emotionless, but Gwendal caught the edge of embarrassment, almost shame, in the tone of voice, saw it the set of his cousin's shoulders.

“I see. You're aware there's not much time. His Majesty intends to face...him. And I will not let him return alone.” He left it unspoken, that he could not leave Wolfram as he was. Even if he had to crawl on hands and knees back to the Temple, he'd do so, for country and king. And even more so for family.

Hube nodded. “I am aware, Excellency. I will ride as well.”

The pain in his head seemed to melt away, leaving him feeling almost light headed. Gwendal took a deep breath, of surprise and relief. “That medication...”

“Yes. It is rather strong.” Hube nodded. “However, I find it works admirably.”

“It does.” Gwendal took a few more deep breaths, forcing his shoulders to relax, letting himself settle. Then he turned back to his cousin. “As a matter of fact, your assistance would be appreciated. I'd welcome any information you can give me.”

Hube straightened, his hand going to his sword hilt in a reflexive gesture. “As you wish, Excellency. Have you a place in mind?”

Gwendal swallowed. “The North Tower. The balcony should be abandoned. I assume the space is large enough?”

“Of course. That will do admirably.” Gegenhuber nodded, then stepped back so Gwendal could precede him from the alcove. Gwendal took another deep breath, then stepped forward, concentrating on maintaining his balance. For some reason, it seemed easier. He still felt off balance and slightly dizzy, but the lack of pain in his skull allowed him to focus better, and reduced the nausea that had threatened to make him collapse before.

Both men were silent as they reached the tower, then climbed the stairs to the balcony. Halfway up, Gwendal put out a hand to steady himself. He felt embarrassed, needing to hang onto the wall like an invalid, but Hube, walking behind him, said nothing. He merely followed Gwendal up, and out onto the balcony, shoving the door closed behind them.

Gwendal took a deep breath, steadying himself once more as Hube led him to the center of the open expanse. They stood silent for a moment, then Hube spoke. “Excellency, do you by chance know the exact dimensions of this balcony?”

“Of course. 20 by 20.” Gwendal blinked at the question. But he knew the pertinent dimensions for just about anywhere in the Castle. It helped with training, and planning siege tactics. The Castle was almost never attacked, and well defended by the magic of the country itself, but he believed in being prepared. “Is it relevant?”

“It is. The halls of the Tomb of the Great One are ten feet wide, I believe.” Hube's voice was quiet.

“They are.” Gwendal frowned. “Why?”

“Because you know those distances, Excellency.” Hube's eye met his. “If you cannot trust your vision, I've learned that you can trust what you know.”

Gwendal stared at him a moment, then a small smile touched a corner of his mouth. “Of course. It takes longer to calculate distance, however...”

“Precisely. That was one of the first tricks I learned.” Hube's face was impassive, but Gwendal saw the flicker of emotion in his eyes. He had a feeling he didn't want to know exactly how Hube had learned that lesson, or put it into use. “And if you know the distance, then you can gauge it, even with faulty eyesight.”

Gwendal nodded and looked around the balcony. Ten feet. From the center of the balcony, every wall was ten feet away. The exact width of the corridors in the Tomb of the Great One. He studied the wall, getting the visual distance in his head, trying to mentally measure the halfway point, which would give him his likely position during a battle. “I see.”

Hube nodded, then drew his blade. Gwendal mirrored the motion, his own balance and posture shifting automatically into his fighting stance. One foot slightly forward, his weight balanced ever-so-slightly on the balls of his feet, rather than heel. It felt odd, with his vision distorted, but he had excellent natural balance under normal circumstances, and he'd been trained by the best. It took only a moment for him to settle into place, his balance recovered.

Hube waited until he relaxed, then spoke again. “You know the length of your sword, Excellency.”

“Of course.” Every swordsman learned the length of their swing. Arm and sword. After all, the last thing any fighter wanted was to be in the middle of battle, then misjudge a strike and wind up with his blade stuck in an inconvenient wall or tree. Or worse, to miss a strike and be left open to a counter-strike by an opponent. Gwendal had more than one blade he used. He had a dress blade, a short sword, his ordinary combat sword, and his great sword, which was over half as tall as he was. The blade he currently used was his combat blade. 36 inches to the blade, added to his reach.

“Extend your sword.” Hube's voice was quiet, the tone still respectful, but there was no mistaking the command. Gwendal nodded, extending arm and blade straight out in front of him.

Hube nodded, then stepped forward so that the tip of Gwendal's sword pressed against his chest, stopping just short of drawing blood. “This, then, is the farthest extent of your range.”

Gwendal frowned. “I can see that.”

“Of course. But it's more important to be aware of now. I discovered it by practicing against trees, on my journey to help Greta reach this place.” Hube met his gaze. “I've learned that it's critical to never over-extend.”

“I see.” Gwendal frowned. “Of course. The blind side...” He stopped.

“Precisely.” Hube appeared to measure something. “My own range ends...here.” He stepped in, turning to avoid Gwendal's blade, and whipped his own blade up. Gwendal felt the tip of it come to rest on his jacket, just over his heart, but it didn't even cut the cloth.

“Impressive.”

“It's merely practice, Excellency.” Hube stepped back.

“Of course. Then the next step...” Gwendal frowned, trying to gauge, then took a quick step forward and brought his blade around into his standard guard position. He ended a step and a half closer, with his sword lying across Hube's shoulder and angling across the man's chest. “Knowing where your optimum strike range is.”

“Indeed.” Hube made no motion to draw away from the sharp steel an inch from his throat. “It took me more than one opponent to measure it accurately.”

Gwendal stepped back. As he did so, his left boot hit the slight unevenness of the stones, and he found himself stumbling with a curse.

Hube moved forward quickly and caught him. “Moving back is always difficult. Particularly to the left. I try to avoid it.”

Gwendal nodded. “It's unbalanced...you can't see...” He paused. “What the hell do you do?”

“Always move forward. I find it easier to turn.” Hube released him, then came to stand in front of him, sword in guard position. “Attack me, Excellency.”

Gwendal nodded, set his stance, then lunged forward, striking out with his sword in a diagonal right-to-left slash from the shoulder down. Hube parried, ducked, then came up on his right side, turning slightly so his sword was in position.

Gwendal tracked the movement, analyzing it. “Of course. It maximizes your visual range.”

Hube nodded. “It also helps to be above your opponent, if possible.”

Gwendal snorted. He'd seen Hube fight, and noted the change in style after his return. His cousin always had relied on speed and angles to fight, but it had only been after his exile that he'd developed the tactic of leaping at his opponent. He had to admit, it was impressive. Properly launched, he'd seen his cousin clear Gunter's shoulder, and the Royal Aide was over six feet tall. Still, it wasn't _ his _ style. He was attuned to Earth, and launching himself off the ground did not come naturally. He'd learned to fight on a horse, out of necessity, but if it was at all possible, he preferred to have stone under his feet. 

Still, there were low walls, ledges, steps. And if he absolutely had to, he could cause a tremor in the Earth, and create a rise beneath his feet. He remembered Yuri, riding the back of his water dragons on Bandabia Island. He supposed the principle would work just as well for an earth dragon.

He took a moment to consider the options, then turned his attention back to his cousin. “What else?”

Hube took up his stance once more. “Attack me again.”

Gwendal nodded, and lashed out again, this time a straight sideways strike, level with the shoulders.

Hube blocked, but then he came forward again, this time to the left, following the path of the blade. His own blade held Gwendal's in guard position, protecting his trailing shoulder. He saw and felt his cousin step in, quick and hard, felt the heel of one boot and the brush of his cousin's shoulder as the man stepped forward, past him, then spun around the shared axis of the fight. As his cousin crossed into his blind side, instinct made Gwendal spin as well, holding the contact even though Gegenhuber would have ended it. He found himself releasing his left hand to catch the other man, holding locked in and close until he could see him again, before they both disengaged.

Hube nodded. “Impressive, Excellency. It is...precisely what I would have done. The other alternative...” He gestured and Gwendal attacked. This time, Hube blocked the strike, but let Gwendal go past him. Then he released his right hand, using the force of the blade in his left and his own footwork to create a counter-strike.

Gwendal nodded. “I see.” He considered. “Always move forward.”

“Indeed.” Hube nodded.

Gwendal frowned thoughtfully. “That night, when I confronted you here...you were retreating.”

“I was. And I could not regain my balance, as I'm sure Your Excellency noted.”

Gwendal nodded curtly. “What about when the enemy attacks from behind? Or from the wrong side?”

“I generally hear them coming. However, I find it prudent to make sure I turn quickly. And frequently.” He paused. “It feels rather unnatural, but in the face of multiple opponents, I tend to leave my left hand extended somewhat. It helps maintain my balance, and I can feel the change in air pressure. It is somewhat easier to detect an attack that way.”

“I see.” He remembered now, the report Yozak had given him, of their fight in Francia. He'd gotten quite a detailed description of how his cousin fought, while Yozak was busy praising the man. “Anything else?”

Hube shook his head. “Those are all the pertinent points, I believe, Excellency. I fear the rest is simply learning to adapt your fighting style. Such lessons come only with practice.”

Gwendal nodded. He'd expected that. He faced the other man, and lifted his blade into guard position once more. “In that case...” He lifted the blade a fraction higher in challenge. A small smile touched one corner of his cousin's mouth.

They spent the next several minutes sparring. The first few rounds, Hube gave him openings, letting him test his own skills, adjust his own style to the new limitations. Then the attacks became fiercer, the openings fewer and less obvious. Gwendal responded, relaxing as the two of them fell into a pattern of strike and counter-strike, a dance of blades much like ones they'd engaged in years ago, as young men.

Gwendal ducked a high strike, and came back in, noting absently that his balance and timing had improved. He no longer felt dizzy, nor especially disoriented. More than that, the concentration required stilled some of the turmoil of his mind. It was a relief, to spar his cousin and lose himself in the combat. In the focus of battle, the conflicting emotions that had tormented him were shoved to the back of his mind, leaving him focused and relaxed. He locked blades with his cousin, looking him in the eye, and noted the same expression of relief in the normally impassive gaze. A grim smile curled one corner of his mouth. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who needed such release.

Hube struck out again. Gwendal countered, came around, then attacked, and found himself locked, blade to blade. Somehow, during their altercation, they'd worked closer to the edge, and Hube was standing with the heel of his left boot touching the parapet. Gwendal eyed him for a moment, then drew back. “Enough.”

“Indeed.” Hube relaxed, sheathing his sword. “You are a very formidable opponent, Excellency.”

Gwendal snorted. “Only because I was well taught.” He turned away, looking out over the kingdom, seeing the vortex over the Great One's Tomb. He leaned against the balcony, his hands clenching on the stone.

Hube came to stand beside him, his gaze following Gwendal's. “It will be a difficult battle.” His voice was quiet, even, and Gwendal envied him his calm.

He made a soft sound, air hissing between his teeth. “You don't seem too concerned.” He didn't know why he was bringing it up, but then...he remembered Hube, coming to him and offering his aid and tentative comfort after Conrad had been declared a traitor. Since his long journey, he'd become surprisingly perceptive.

“I confess, the identity of our foe does give me some concern. However...if His Majesty wishes to face him, then I will be at his side. However the outcome may fall.” There was no hesitation in Hube's voice.

Gwendal turned to look at him, and saw the conviction mirrored on his cousin's face. He turned away, feeling once again the strain of conflicting loyalties, of oaths and impending betrayals. He, who had always been a man of his word, who held his honor to the highest standard. “I swore an oath.” He hadn't meant to utter the words aloud, but there was no taking them back.

“Indeed. To serve the Great One, our country and our king, for as long as was required of us.” Gwendal turned back to see his cousin's shoulders tense slightly. “No matter what was required of us. However...”

Hube took a deep, slow breath, looking out over the city. “I owe His Majesty...everything. Because of his mercy, I received a pardon, and have my wife and son. Were it not for him, I would still be a vagabond, seeking death. For that reason, my oath to His Majesty supersedes everything else. No matter what he requires, what I must do in his service...I am willing to do whatever King Yuri asks of me.”

“What of your family? Surely your oath...if the two come in conflict, what would you do?” Gwendal winced. It wasn't a question he'd meant to ask, and he knew very well how harsh it was. But his own mind felt torn, uncertain.

Hube's face tightened. Then he shook his head. “I can't say. However, I am not overly concerned with such a scenario, Excellency.”

Gwendal blinked. “Why not?”

Hube turned, met his gaze. “Because I do not believe His Majesty is the kind of man who would ask me to make such a decision.”

Gwendal swallowed, a memory flashing to the forefront of his mind. Their mission in Sevelera, so long ago. He remembered catching the young king, he and Conrad holding him to stop him from sliding into the sand bear den. Remembered seeing Wolfram fall through the hole, the sick twisting of his gut. And Yuri's words to Conrad.  _ Don't worry about me. If you truly obey my orders, then I want you to go. Just go and grab the arm of your little brother. _ It had been, he remembered, one of the first real orders the king had ever given. And at the time, he and Yuri had still been on poor terms, almost unable to speak to each other without arguing.

He took a deep breath, settled by the knowledge. “You're correct. His Majesty would not ask it of you.” He shifted his weight. “I apologize.”

“There is no need, Excellency. These are...difficult times.” Gwendal turned, looked into his cousin's face, and saw the forgiveness there, the understanding.

Gwendal nodded, then turned back to the wall. Over the edge of the balcony, he could see into the main courtyard. People were beginning to gather. He didn't see Yuri, or Conrad, but Dorcascos was leading the horses back out, with Yozak's help. Most likely, they'd leave within the hour. Two at the most. He spoke. “We'll be leaving soon. Go and spend some time with your wife and child., before we go. They deserve to wish you safe journey properly.” He didn't speak of their danger, of how likely it was that they would die. Hube already knew, and he suspected Nicola would too.

“As you wish. Thank you, Excellency.” There was a rustle of clothing, as Hube bowed, then the click of boot-heels on the stone. He heard the door creak open, and though it didn't shut again, he knew he was alone. He was grateful for the reprieve, to sort out his thoughts.

He recalled Gegenhuber's words, about his debt to his king. He knew Yuri would never view their relationship in that light. In fact, he'd most likely be shocked, if not outright horrified, if it were ever mentioned in his presence that his people thought they  _ owed  _ him anything. He could almost hear it, the youth's vehement denial, followed by his own feelings of shortcoming and debt. And yet....

Gwendal closed his eyes, thinking back. Hube wasn't the only one who owed Yuri. He, himself, owed the boy king more than two lifetimes of service could even begin to repay. For the first time in his life, the country had allies, to support and protect them. He'd never imagined having friends and support among the courts of Francia, Cavalcade, Caloria. Big Cimarron was a problem, but no longer one that gave him ulcers and sleepless nights. Not when, just over a year ago, he'd been facing the possibility of war on two fronts, with Cavalcade and another country. The relief from that terrible strain alone would have put him in Yuri's debt. And in many ways, he felt it was the least of the gifts the king had given him.

Because of Yuri, Conrad and Wolfram had reconciled, after decades of hostility. He'd almost given up on it, become resigned to being trapped between his two younger brothers, pulled in opposite directions and forced to watch the terrible rift in his family. But now...they were as close as they had been in childhood, before Wolfram had known of Conrad's father. And Wolfram...Wolfram had grown into the man Gwendal had always hoped he'd be. He was reckless, hot-tempered, and sometimes still given to jealousy, but he was no longer the young man that had elicited the title of 'Little Lord Brat' from Gunter and Anissina.

Because of Yuri, he had his cousin back again, the terrible rift between them repaired. He remembered the anguish he'd felt when he'd banished Gegenhuber, the torment when he'd thought he'd be forced to execute him after all. But Yuri had ended it, given him a way out, restoring his cousin to him. Not only that, but he'd gained a niece, in the form of Greta, and new family in Nicola and El. They were Hube's family more than his, but both Hube and Nicola had made it plain he was welcome any time, and that his presence, when they met, was valued.

He remembered Yozak, watching his spy as the hardness and distance erected from years of suspicion and mistreatment began to fade, as the wounds of the Luttenberg battle were soothed and healed by the touch of an awkward fifteen year old boy. Yozak would always be a little wary. He was a spy after all. But he'd opened up, come to trust the government Gwendal served. And in trusting, he become far more effective, and far more willing. In many ways, Gwendal felt he'd gained an ally and a friend, as opposed to a servant.

And Conrad...he remembered the silent shell Conrad had been after Julia's death. And his relief, when Conrad had returned from Earth, smiling and relaxed. A bit more sarcastic, at times, and every now and then he'd seen the violence of the past in those brown eyes, and yet...still his brother. He hadn't dared hope that Conrad would recover from the trauma of that time. Watching him with Yuri now, he still couldn't believe it sometimes. But because of Yuri, he'd gotten his brother back. More than once.

He felt his shoulders tighten automatically, remembering how the Great One had forced Conrad to betray them. Remembering Yozak's report, and the sickening feeling in his cut when he realized he had to declare his own brother, the brother he loved, a traitor. He'd done what had to be done, but when Yuri had returned, he'd gone to him. He remembered kneeling on the stone of the Temple hallways, offering himself in his brother's place. Willing to be dismissed, to be condemned, willing to suffer anything rather than face the agony of condemning his own flesh and blood. Or worse, being asked to deliver the killing stroke himself. But Yuri hadn't asked for any of it. Instead, he'd refused to condemn his godfather, or anyone else. And he'd taken the burden from Gwendal's shoulders. It had been one of the most difficult times of his life, those days. In some ways, worse even than believing Conrad was dead, and yet...all of it was eclipsed by the moment he'd seen Conrad ride through the doors of the Castle, fully pardoned.

A small smile touched his lips. He really did owe Yuri everything. His family. His country. His sense of honor restored. Even his own life, considering how Yuri had protected him in Sevelera, and come to save him on Bandabia Island. And Hube was right, too, in stating that Yuri would never ask him to choose duty over family, kingdom over love.

Gwendal relaxed, feeling something settle inside him. Gegenhuber was right. Whether it was debt, loyalty, honor, or even love, he could no more turn his back on Yuri than he could Wolfram. He was the Maou's servant first and foremost, no matter what. Besides...his brother was counting on him. He knew Yuri would move heaven and earth to save Wolfram, and he was determined to do no less.

That truth served to take the last tension from his mind. He remained where he was, but his thoughts relaxed. His hands, clenched into fists, slowly relaxed, until he was resting with his open palms on the stone, as he often did when he retreated up here to think, to meditate and relax. Conrad had once remarked, how odd it was that an Earth mage such as himself would find such comfort so far up. But here...he could feel the strength of the Castle. And he could look over his castle, his city, and the land around the capital, and remind himself why he fought.

He was still there, when Gunter found him. He was a little apprehensive, wondering what the Royal Aide thought of the situation. He hadn't found time to ask. But...their logic was different, but their reasons and their conclusions were the same. He knew he'd surprised his old friend, laughing at the irony of the situation, but it served to get the last of the tension out of his system. So he let himself laugh, and admit that he too, in his own way, was willing to place his fate with Yuri, for Wolfram's sake. Among other things. And as he walked down to the courtyard and swung up onto his horse, he was relieved to note...there was nothing wrong with his balance any more.

**Author's Note:**

> It just felt like this scene was missing in the anime...something of Gwendal's POV after everything with Shinou.


End file.
